On Your Side
by Stabler 'n' Gibbs' Gurl
Summary: "I'm on your side." Those few words changed everything inside of his mind. : Just a quick drabble of Tony joining NCIS; nothing fancy    ; Rated T for Language


Disclaimer : Don't own. By the way, wrote this with no background to it and there probably will be no background to it, so just go along. It was just a mere thought that I had in the middle of the night and had to put out there. Tell me what you think.

Puffs of smoky air crashed around his retreating body as he propelled himself though the rundown alleyway; flickering neon lights and trashy corners creating a scene from one of his favorite gangster movies. The chilly night air put unbelievable pressure on his lungs as his leg ached from the stiffening cold that was penetrating the gash in his slacks. His hands were frozen over his sig as he dodged left and right, avoiding the eye sights of others. Hearing curses tossed in the background he dived behind a torn-up Dumpster and tried to regain his composure while the adrenalin slowly leaked away from him.

_Two and a half weeks of fuckin' undercover work with these two navy assholes and one's already got me pinned down because he can't follow a simple direction._ Baltimore homicide detective Anthony DiNozzo thought wryly while he pulled what was left of the fishing knife out of his leg. _Great._

He thought back to the short time this all went down. Navy drill sergeant was found dead and they followed a trail to a drug ring. DiNozzo and the one navy cop went in, the one fucked up and went back to the police station causing DiNozzo to start running for his life, only to be captured. He escaped after days of torture and was trying to lead them all back to the center street where magic should be worked.

After staring down at his leg, barely making out the outline of his blood pooling on the ground, he crouched up and looked to see if anyone was near him. Trying to breathe lightly, he stood back up and sprinted towards the end of the alley, effectively holstering his gun and hides his wound as he walked casually down the unfamiliar streets. Being kidnapped was not on his top priority list but to make it out with barely a flesh wound? Skill.

_There's no way in Hell I could ever work for these guys. I think I would rather stab myself in the ear than work with Mr. Showoff._ He huffed as he walked on. _Mr. Call of Duty is almost worse, so I'll take the knife instead._

Strolling into one of the thrift shops, he walked out thirty minutes later with a pair of flexible black jeans, a bandana clotting the blood underneath, a gray tee shirt and black sip up sweatshirt; the earpiece that was transferred over well hidden in his right ear. Walking down the street, he glanced at faces that passed by, wonder for each and every one of them if they knew who he was. The sound of a microphone fizzing filed his ear and soon a voice was there.

"You see anyone that looks suspicious?" Mr. Call of Duty asked; it was the first thing he's heard all day.

"Oh I'm fine thanks, how are you?" Sarcasm seeped into his words as he casually looked behind him. "No one yet, but then again I have no fucking idea who I'm looking for." Frustration growled out of him as he turned quickly. "Where's your right hand man? Is he done screwing with the investigation or do I have to be kidnapped and tortured again?"

"You were tortured?" He sounded generally surprised as the Detective made another turn.

"Where the fuck am I?" He hollered before looking behind him once more and seeing the same three guys. "Fuck."

"What?" instead of answering, he took off up the nearest fire escape and sprinted across the roof. Finally reaching the end, his adrenalin rush kicked back in and he found himself clinging to a clothes line as he slid down to the ground.

"They found me." _Wonder who told them this time? My captain or my partner? Probably neither but I wouldn't put it past them…_ After a few moments of jogging, he came to the spot in town where they were holding a huge festival. Loud noises and laughter filled the spaces for miles. Families were hugging and friends were smiling and that's when it dawned on him.

He couldn't trust anyone.

"We're trying to locate you but the GPS thing is still down." Mr. Call of Duty gruffly said into the ear piece.

"When you say _we're_, do you mean just you or is that cup of coffee in your hand counted too?" The Detective knew how it worked, knew what to expect, so he didn't bother to wait for an answer before starting back up again. "God do I hate this. Why am I the only one who they put in on this."

"Because they trust you."

"Nope." The Detective said spitefully.

"And because you're good at it. Find someone you can trust." Mr. Call of Duty said; you could almost hear the smirk on his lips.

"I don't trust anyone. No one's on my side out here."

"I'm on your side." Those few words changed everything inside of his mind.

Minutes passed in the awkward silence before a gunshot was fired, hitting him right through the left shoulder, and screams were released from the mob of people. Swarms of families swallowed him whole as he tried desperately to get out. Everything happened quickly as men branched out and took down the shooters. He got up from his fallen position what seemed hours later to come stand behind Call of Duty.

"How did I do?" The silver haired Call of Duty turned around and looked him over. "Burn marks, stab wound, gunshot, dislocated wrist and knee, broken ribs and maybe a fractured ankle along with lung damage from the cold. Anything else?"

"You forgot broken jaw."

"Right. How could I forget that one?" _Jackass…_

"Gordans' is long gone, so you don't have to worry about him when you come back from hospital leave."

…_Excuse me?_

"Excuse me?" The detective said in frustration, half at which was confused, the other at the fact that he didn't remember moving over to the ambulance where they were currently picking at his injuries.

"You think I'm just going to let you waste away here?" His blue eyes danced with laughter as he shook his head. "Be at my desk at six hundred hours the day after your leave ends or don't bother to come in at all." Walking away, NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs left the door open for the opportunity of a lifetime.

_Bastard…_ He thought with a grin as they took him to the hospital. _Always did think Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo had a nice ring to it._

Thoughts?


End file.
